servants excepted) to my brother's at Wotton, being resolved to stay at my house myself, and to look after my charge (of the sick and wounded), trusting in the providence and goodness of God." In September the mortality increased in London to ten thousand weekly, and Evelyn passing through the city, observes, that it was a dismal passage and dangerous, to see so many coffins exposed in the streets, now thin of people; the shops shut up, and all in mournful silence, as not knowing whose turn might be next." Again in October :"To London, and went through the whole city, having occasion to alight out of the coach in several places about business of money, when I was environed with multitudes of poor pestiferous creatures begging alms; the shops universally shut up; a dreadful prospect !"

Meanwhile the pestilence was doing its fearful work at Deptford. In September he writes: "Near thirty houses are visited in this miserable village, whereof one has been the very nearest to my dwelling. After a servant of mine, now sick of a swelling, which will terminate we know not where, behold me a living monument of God Almighty's protection and mercy. It was Saturday last ere my courageous wife would be persuaded to take the alarm; but she is now fled with most of my family; whilst my conscience, or something which I would have taken for my duty, obliges me to this sad station, till his Majesty take pity on me, and send me a considerable refreshment for the comfort of these poor creatures, the sick and wounded seamen under mine inspection, through all the ports of my district. For mine own particular, I am resolved to do my duty as far as I am capable, and trust God with the event; but the second causes should cooperate."

On the last day of the year, he pours out the gratitude

of his heart for past protection in the following terms :— "Now, blessed be God for his extraordinary mercies and preservation of me this year, when thousands and ten thousands perished, and were swept away on each side of me, there dying in our parish this year, four hundred and six of the pestilence !" On the 6th of the following February the plague appeared to be stayed, and his wife and family returned to Sayes Court. "Blessed be God," he says, " for his infinite mercy in preserving us! I have gone through so much danger, and lost so many of my poor officers, escaping still myself, that I might live to recount and magnify his goodness to me." Deptford, however, was afterwards "more infected with the plague than ever," and it continued its ravages till the autumn.

London was spared from a return of that destructive malady; but the chastening hand of God still rested upon that city. The fire of London added to the warnings and chastisements already inflicted, and called upon the nation to repent. Of that fearful visitation Evelyn was an eyewitness, and perhaps no finer description of it can be produced than that which he gives in his journal.

"1666, 2 Sept.-This fatal night about ten, began that deplorable fire near Fish-street, in London.

“3.—I had public prayers at home. The fire continuing after dinner, I took coach with my wife and son and went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole city in dreadful flames near the water side; all the houses from the bridge, all Thames-street, and upwards towards Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now consumed: and so returned exceeding astonished what would become of the rest.

"The fire having continued all this night, (if I may

call that night which was light as day for 10 miles round about, after a dreadful manner,) when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind, in a very dry season; I went on foot to the same place, and saw the whole south part of the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames, and all along Cornhill (for it likewise kindled back against the wind as well as forward), Tower-street, Fenchurch-street, Gracious-street, and so along Bainard's Castle, and was now taking hold of St. Paul's church, to which the scaffolds contributed exceedingly.

"The conflagration was so universal, and the people so astonished, that from the beginning, I know not by what despondency or fate, they hardly stirred to quench it, so that there was nothing heard or seen but crying out and lamentation, running about like distracted creatures, without at all attempting to save even their goods, such a strange consternation there was upon them, so as it burned both in breadth and length, the churches, public Halls, Exchange, Hospitals, Monuments, and ornaments, leaping after a prodigious manner from house to house, and street to street, at great distances one from the other; for the heat, with a long set of fair and warm weather, had even ignited the air, and prepared the materials to conceive the fire, which devoured after an incredible manner, houses, furniture, and every thing. Here we saw the Thames covered with goods floating, all the barges and boats laden with what some had time and courage to save, ―as, on the other, the carts, &c. carrying out to the fields, which for many miles were strewed with moveables of all sorts, and tents erected to shelter both people, and what goods they could get away. Oh the miserable and calamitous spectacle! such as haply the world had not seen the like since the foundation of it, nor will be outdone till the universal conflagration of it. All the sky

was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light seen above forty miles round about, for many nights. God grant mine eyes may never behold the like, who now saw above 10,000 houses all in one flame; the noise, and cracking, and thunder of the impetuous flames, the shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of towers, houses and churches, was like an hideous storm, and the air all about so hot and inflamed, that at the last one was not able to approach it, so that they were forced to stand still and let the flames burn on, which they did for near two miles in length, and one in breadth. The clouds also of smoke were dismal, and reached upon computation near fifty miles in length. Thus I left it this afternoon burning, a resemblance of Sodom, or the last day. It forcibly called to my mind that passage-We have here no abiding city; the ruins resembling the picture of Troy. London was, but is no

more!

66

Thus I returned.

Sept. 4.-The burning still rages, and it was now gotten as far as the Inner Temple; all Fleet-street, the Old Bailey, Ludgate-hill, Warwick-lane, Newgate, Paul's chain, Watling-street, now flaming, and most of it reduced to ashes; the stones of Paul's, flew like granados, the melting lead running down the streets in a stream, and the very pavements glowing with fiery redness, so as no horse or man was able to tread on them, and the demolition had stopped all the passages, so that no help could be applied. The eastern wind still more impetuously driving the flames forward. Nothing but the Almighty power of God was able to stop them, for vain was the help of man.

"5.-It crossed towards Whitehall; but oh, the confusion there was then at Court! It pleased his majesty to command me, among the rest, to look after the

quenching of Fetter-lane end, to preserve if possible that part of Holborn, whilst the rest of the gentlemen took their several posts, some at one part, some at another, (for now they began to bestir themselves, and not till now, who hitherto had stood as men intoxicated, with their hands across,) and began to consider that nothing was likely to put a stop, but the blowing up of so many houses as might make a wider gap than any had yet been made by the ordinary method of pulling them down with engines. This some stout seamen proposed early enough to have saved near the whole city, but this some tenacious and avaricious men, aldermen, &c. would not permit, because their houses must have been the first. It was therefore now commanded to be practised, and my concern being particularly for the Hospital of St. Bartholomew near Smithfield, where I had many wounded and sick men, made me the more diligent to promote it; nor was my care for the Savoy less. It now pleased God, by abating the wind, and by the industry of the people,—when almost all was lost infusing a new spirit into them, that the fury of it began sensibly to abate about noon, so as it came no farther than the Temple westward, nor than the entrance of Smithfield north: but continued all this day and night so impetuous toward Cripplegate and the Tower, as made us all despair; it also brake out again in the Temple, but the courage of the multitude persisting, and many houses being blown up, such gaps and desolations were soon made, as with the former three days consumption, the back fire did not so vehemently urge upon the rest as formerly. There was yet no standing near the burning and glowing ruins by near a furlong's space

"The coal and wood wharfs, and magazines of oil, rosin, &c. did infinite mischief, so as the invective [Fu